Mary Bradford, a mother and an expert in hugging, is a published writer of short stories in magazines, newspapers and anthologies both in Ireland and internationally, mainly in the United States. Her novel 'My Husband's Sin', contemporary fiction, is with Tirgearr Publishing. She writes historical westerns and adult romance also. Mary too, writes plays and has seen her work both short-listed and performed.
Climate change brought seasons of unpredictability and
challenges. The giant green fir was not old, fifteen years at most, but tired.
It’s wide reaching branches battered by bullying winds and piercing rain. Its
roots deprived of firm soil to grip from the penetrating rainfall and so,
exhausted, it fell over. Another victim to the strength of winter’s many
No electricity, no power for television, phone, to
cook or to clean. Candles scattered around the house. Dots of light
illuminating the dark evening presence. Curtains drawn closed to keep the winds
outside yet it still manages to whistle down the chimney. Orange and yellow
flames leap to greet it as I pile timber upon timber. The longing for a cup of
tea so strong, my mind torments me as to how it tastes, two sugars and a drop
Alone, the silence of the house annoys me, yet when
power will be restored, the TV, the phone, the computer will fill this quiet
bubble and then I shall long for silence.
So I sit by my fire, writing by candle-light.
Stopping to do some crochet for a change. I am adjusting, I enjoy my own
company and allow my thoughts and dreams of past-times to entertain me.
I salute this storm that made me sit and be content
in what was another busy day in my life.